My Little Dark Puppet
by Squirrel of Shadow
Summary: The Third Task of Tri-Wizard is at an end, and two young hands reach for the cup unaware of the trap laid down upon it. As a Dark Lord is about to be reborn, a small twist to the plans complicates matters. The Dark Lord is about to rise and take over the wizarding world, but even as he emerges his plans are changing radically. AU, Dark(?)!Harry, One-Shot


Disclaimer: I am merely playing with other people's creations, I don't own the game/book/anime/TV-show I am borrowing from, nor am I making any money with this. I am writing for fun and practice, as fan-fiction to be shared with others if I feel like it.

**Chapter 1: Reborn**

Landing with a groan and nausea from the portkey travel, Harry Potter looked around in confusion while Cedric Diggory cast a wary look around him as well. The two of them were surrounded by old graves, the grounds dirty and abandoned long ago. "Wands out," Cedric muttered while looking about but Harry reached out to grasp his arm. "No, summon the cup, quickly."

Cedric raised a brow at this, but did as he was told, but before it reached him a voice whispered in the distance. "Kill the spare."

A green light rushed towards where Cedric was, and Harry had to quickly shove Cedric ahead, both behind a gravestone and towards the incoming cup, then rolling away as quickly as he could. With a flash, Cedric was gone and Harry found himself alone with their attacker, crimson bolts of light slashing past the gravestone he was using as a shield. _'Stunners. They want me alive, though they were willing to kill Cedric? Spare?'_

He felt a chill going along his back. The voice reminded him of the first year, and the voice at the back of Quirrelmort's head. That meant he had to act, and quickly. If he had held onto Cedric a little longer, he might have escaped. Too late now.

Turning to fire back a few spells of his own, Harry was unlucky to catch a stunner in the face when he rolled partially in the open, and the darkness claimed him. Collapsed, he was approached by a figure who was smirking coldly while starting to drag the young man back towards the large cauldron set up further away in the graveyard, clouded by the fog.

It took a short while for Harry to awaken, but as he did, he saw Wormtail standing before him, chanting about blood of the enemy, unwillingly taken. Harry knew enough of magic to recognize that intent was most important in these things. He would naturally fight against the foe, but he also knew that would play into their hands. So he relaxed himself, and silently decided to give his blood willingly, if only to try and mess up the rite. He thought of his mother's love, his own love for his schoolmates, well at least Hermione, and he thought of how relieved he had been seeing her recover from the basilisk, escape from the troll, and all those occurrences. Filling his mind with love and warmth.

The knife cut him and had him wince, but he kept his mind on those thoughts. Moving back to the cauldron, Wormtail flung the blood into the cauldron before continuing the chant. A moment later, a pale, nose-less figure emerged from the cauldron, gasping for air and shivering. "Robe me, Wormtail..." He hissed coldly.

Harry's mind felt a tug on it, and a moment later he saw into another mind. a mind of a man staring at him, a man who hated him, a man who hated himself and everyone around him. Voldemort. The man was utterly insane, and his will was for the world to burn to the ground with him. He was going to be immortal, turning the purebloods against muggleborns, and watching the inevitable war to destroy the wizards and witches that thought themselves so superior, and the muggles that had tormented him. He'd harness the dead and use all that misery and destruction to empower himself further, and be a man like a God. He never intended for the pureblooded to rule, he despised them for what they had done to him at school.

The sheer hatred and malice within the man was staggering, but holding onto the connection, Harry saw similarities to himself that were staggering. Every moment he held onto the connection, he felt his own mind gaining strength. Every moment taught him new secrets, both in spells and lore, and he was relishing the experience. Watching Voldemort summoning his faithful servants, Harry remained silent, held to the stone he had been bound to by ropes while drawing all he could through that link.

The death-eaters appearing on the grave-yard a moment later stared in silence at their master, who grinned coldly, but as he did, Harry felt out through the bond, and found the man's will. His blood in Voldemort's veins answered his call, and by his unspoken command, he seized control of this creation, this simulacrum, this homunculus. It might have been made to house Voldemort's leech-like spirit, but his twist to the ritual failed to severe his connection to his blood, and his blood obeyed only one master, himself.

"I see you have not completely forgotten your old master. A pity that none of you had the brains to look for me before, none of you had the loyalty to help me regain my form. It has been a long time, and I have heard some interesting things in the passing years. Lucius, I entrusted something important to you. One of my own private treasures. What came of it, I wonder? I learned that you _gave it away _and it was _destroyed_."

The dark lord's face twisted into a mask of pure hatred as he unleashed his strongest Crucio on Malfoy, holding it even as the masked man shook and screamed on the ground, twitching and pleading. All the while Voldemort stared at him with pure loathing, and behind his hateful eyes, Harry Potter's mind worked the homunculus like a puppet. He knew what Voldemort knew, he saw the similarities and how Dumbledore had been _playing _with Voldemort, _shaping the man_ to a weapon.

To say that Harry Potter's eyes were opened was an understatement. Thinking back to the first year, and the claim there was no light or darkness, only power and those too weak to claim it, he wondered if the truth lay somewhere between that and what he had accepted as the truth as spewed by the Dumbledore-worshipping life-eaters of the 'light lord'. While Voldemort's followers delighted in tormenting some to death, Dumbledore's games tormented people while not allowing them the peace of death. Harry found that between the two, at least Voldemort had the decency to end things.

"Pathetic. Out of my many faithful servants, I find that only few have been worthy of the description. You will all have much to prove in the days to come. Now, when I went after the Potter family many years ago, I did so because of a prophecy I was informed about that stated that the one with a power to defeat me would come, and the signs matched with the Potters and their new son." He smirked cruelly. "However, they never said that he _would_, only that he _could._ That was my mistake." Voldemort, or Harry, watched the confused group of death-eaters before continuing.

"Imagine my surprise when my killing curse rebounded on the baby's head leaving but a scar but striking my physical form from existence. I am, however, immortal and thus my return was only a matter of time, needing a new body... but this is where you all have failed me. Rather than seeking me out and aiding me, you have been content with living your lives doing nothing to aid your lord. Your lack of loyalty is disturbing." He smirked watching several people shivering in fear, after witnessing what he had done to Lucius Malfoy mere moments earlier.

"Now, during my long absence I came to learn that what I had done that night resulted in a new surprise. I gave Harry Potter part of myself by accident, but in doing so, I also gave him a talent in Parseltongue, as well as an understanding of the dark. If not for Dumbledore's lies and manipulations, he should have been with us. For Merlin's sake, he'd have been in _Slytherin_ if not for this idiot's pompous son making the worst possible first impression by insulting the first person to be kind to him after years of abuse. " Voldemort snapped a new crucio on Malfoy who had been trying to rise to his knees slowly during his master's rant.

"Untie him, and take him along. We're taking him with us, and leaving this site behind. Destroy the evidence here, other than splattering some of his blood around and snap his wand throwing it to the ground there. Throw some Avada Kedavras around for good measure, give it a look of a battlefield." He sneered. "Let the light think the boy went down fighting." He cackled, earning a few laughs from his followers too, though most of them seemed more confused than anything.

"Wormtail, you have served me well. For this, I shall reward you." Harry hated the slimy bastard, but within Voldemort's mind the rat had helped him, and to not reward him or at least save his life for now would make a bad impression on his followers. So, Harry carried on with Voldemort's plan, and using magic to fashion a silvery prosthetic to replace the man's lost arm, a silver-arm that was stronger than the original, powered by Wormtail's own magical core.

"Thank you my lord, thank you!" Wormtail chanted gratefully, while Voldemort grinned. "Your loyalty may be out of fear, but I reward loyalty while punishing those who fail me. Malfoy!" He sneered at the man. "We are taking shelter in your home, I expect you to see to it that both myself and Wormtail receive the best service there, and that nobody harms the Potter boy, if you want to make amends for destroying one of my treasures! If you weren't married to Narcissa who's sister Bellatrix was so loyal I would have been even harsher, but I believe she has kept another piece of my treasures safe and thus her loyalty has earned you a chance to prove yourself loyal still."

His orders were carried out, and the grounds scorched before they left in a hurry. Few hours after they were gone, the Aurors finally began to pop up to the graveyard having had to go through all the red-tape to issue a permission to trace a port-key, and then gather the squad of aurors to send to investigate the site. Finding what appeared to be a magical battleground, and a broken, famous wand as well as dried up, soiled blood that had belonged to the Potter boy sent a chill down many of their spines. The signs pointed towards a vicious struggle, and that the Potter boy had either been seriously injured or killed.

Back at the Malfoy manner, when 'Voldemort' finally laid down to rest in his bed, Harry's own body slowly began to wake up. Locked in a guest-bedroom, he was shown some courtesy though he was hardly the same 'honored guest' as Voldemort, or his 'most faithful' servant, Wormtail. In truth, Harry just wanted to humiliate Malfoy and having Wormtail thinking that Voldemort was pleased with him would allow Harry to set the man up for capture later on, to prove that his godfather was innocent.

Yet as he sat on the bed, he found that the connection between him and the Homunculus had sharpened his mind and reviewing his life, he saw too many inconsistencies. Too many questions left in the open. The Weasleys had been shouting things out loud at the station at the first year, and given the amount of times they must have been there Molly's question what the platform number was did not make any sense. Worse, it smelled of a set-up that should have been blindingly obvious.

Ronald had tried to push everyone else away from around him, including making sure that Harry and Draco could never have a chance to speak. Without Ron, Draco wouldn't have necessarily sprouted that hateful spiel to start off with, and it was possible they'd at least been cordial if not friendly. Meeting with Hermione had seemed a blessing, but some things worried him. Finding out about Flamel in her 'light reading', getting a permission to use something as volatile as a time-turner, and discovering the beast in the chamber when none of the teachers could. It smelled of a set-up as well. On top of that, there was her authority worship.

Dumbledore kept denying him answers, and learning from Voldemort's mind that it was Snape, who Dumbledore trusted and protected, who delivered the partial prophecy and set Voldemort out to kill the Potters made Harry quietly gnash his teeth together. Oh no, this would not go unpunished. He was now a 'prisoner' as well as 'potential convert' for the Dark Lord, only that Voldemort's spirit was being consumed within him. The thoughts of love and willingness to give his blood had strengthened his hold on the creation, and once he had it, he pushed, until both the piece of Voldemort's spirit in his scar and inside the Homunculus were in torpor, quiet and broken.

He'd find a way to remove the piece in his forehead. In fact, Voldemort's studies had pointed out ways to reabsorb those pieces, but he wondered what it would do to his control on his 'puppet'. There was also the goblins who could remove the piece from Harry's forehead, it was his blood, after all, that formed the chain around the homunculus and kept it under his control.

Sitting on the bed's end thinking coldly at the times the old man had failed him, Harry reviewed the teachings he had received from Voldemort's mind, and saw the steady decline of the education. Voldemort had, as Tom Riddle, received an education far superior to his own even before leaving Hogwarts, and had learned much more since then. Gaining all that knowledge, Harry would have to practice the practical portion and make his body remember the gestures for the more demanding spells, but he could probably pass his OWLs and NEWTs by the time a year had passed.

He would not carry out Voldemort's insane plan to destroy the world to try and become some god-like being. He doubted it could really work. What he could do was get vengeance on several people. Justice had nothing to do with it, he had _seen _what the wizarding world's justice was like. This would be pure, simple vengeance. Perhaps he'd make Lucius think that part of earning redemption would involve sending Draco out with orders to torture and murder Ronald the traitor Weasley, perhaps he would see to it that the incompetent officials like Ludo Bagman that had forced him to compete to try and make the competition more profitable would find themselves at wand point, executed for getting in the way of the Dark Lord.

Perhaps in time he'd see Voldemort kill off Dumbledore, crush the remaining forces of 'corrupted light'. The thought of crushing the wizarding Britain under the heel of his boot seemed right. All those years of abuse and torment had left him highly wary of the 'greater good' that Dumbledore spouted, it left his now cleared mind to reflect that phrase as a handy excuse to sweep everything under the carpet unless it served Albus' Good.

Light could be just as fanatical as the Dark, and what Voldemort was to his death eaters, the great Albus Dumbledore was to his order of the Phoenix. Unfortunately for Albus, the old man seemed intent to prevent his forces from being too effective by demanding they stun, capture and imprison their foes so they could have 'second chances' for the 'greater good'. All it did was make sure that Voldemort could strike without mercy or concern, and free his captive soldiers time after time.

As Harry thought on it, he recognized the truth that Dumbledore was a joke, and not a funny one either. He was losing the war before that fateful night more than a decade ago, and he was going to lose this war as well. By the time it was over, Harry would make sure the puppet's strings had all been cut, having his own death eaters bring those 'treasures' back home and destroying them in private, before finally leading them to a doomed fight. Perhaps he'd attack a muggle military base to 'show that those filthy apes could never stand up to pureblood might', to have the purebloods eradicated in the end.

By that time, he'd have the gold from all of those families, the assets they were holding onto, and the contracts to obscure who the true owner of it all was. He'd walk away, under a new name, with a new set of wealth, and begin a new life elsewhere. Perhaps Switzerland? The Gnomes of Zurich were a far better option for him to invest in than Gringotts. Sure, all the bankers were a 'little evil', but when they treated their clients in terms they laid out clearly, it was the fools own fault if they got ruined by making too many mistakes. He'd have the wealth to stay on top, and with the amount of assets providing additional wealth over the years he could see to it that the projects he had in mind could be carried forth later on.

He had no mercy or care for the 'Light' nor the wizarding Britain. The whole school saw him as a delusional liar and a cheat, and the second year had seen him as a potential dark lord. Oh the irony, he thought to himself cruelly. Of course, the thought of having someone captured and polyjuiced to look like him, only to be permanently locked into that form and chopped into pieces before being sent to the wizarding public also appealed to him to make Dumbledore panic. Someone who had betrayed him before, he thought.

Perhaps he'd choose to pay a visit to his relatives, and make Dudley into his body-double for this. It would be a far more meaningful end to that fat piece of crap than he would otherwise achieve.

While Harry held the power in the bond, and gained a great amount of knowledge from the now crushed spirit of Voldemort, a tiny soul-slice left over after all those horcruxes and soul-splitting, the knowledge came with a lot of dark experiences and lessons that were twisting his personality to a darker, more callous one. He might not have the cold tendencies of a sociopath but he lost those artificially planted moralities that Dumbledore had tried to place upon him.

Harry Potter was about to die in the eyes of the general public, while the death eaters would see Voldemort work on turning the poster boy of light into a dark heir as a one last middle finger to Voldemort, and the fact the old man wouldn't even know the boy was alive was going to have them cackling with glee at their master's twisted sense of humor. Little did they know that Harry was going to get his vengeance on all of them, but he had enough Slytherin in him to know that he had to think ahead. Six moves ahead, in fact, at minimum.

**End Chapter**

A/N: Bit of a silly idea really, I've seen other ideas of how the ritual at the graveyard could have been messed up by messing up some of the ingredients beforehand. I've also seen 'time travel' tales of an older mind combined with a younger self, being made aware of a whole lot.

I've taken a poke at those in my own little way here, I don't plan to write more of this really, unless there was some actual desire for people to see how this Dark Harry/Voldemort would go about his plans, but I figure it's likely this will just stay a one-shot throw-away idea.

On that note, unless I were to continue to write to this piece, it's left for the reader to decide whether Harry's suspicions about people were right or just paranoid ramblings of a mind learning from a dark lord who grew up suspecting everyone of plotting against him.


End file.
